


Let Nothing You Dismay

by eevilalice



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Christmas, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eevilalice/pseuds/eevilalice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Hermione has immersed herself in study and isolated herself from friends and classmates. When Malfoy joins the new school choir, his unexpected voice sets something off inside her, and it's not entirely welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Nothing You Dismay

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to those who nominated me to participate again this year! I love this fest!
> 
> I wanted to try something a little different (for myself) in terms of form and tone. I usually write something funny and fluffy for this fest and wanted to go for angst and spareness, so I wrote this as a (connected) drabble series. It is not _too_ angst-y in the end, however. It's the holidays, after all. :)
> 
> Prompt: Christmas carols

“Is that Malfoy?”

Hermione looked up from her bowl of untouched Irish stew and followed Ginny’s gaze to the front of the Great Hall. Amongst an interhouse group of students from all years ordering itself on a set of risers stood a tall, slender, sharp-faced figure with white-blonde hair.

“Appears to be.” She returned to her meal, pushing a piece of brown bread into the stew and watching it soak up the broth. 

Then the singing began.

_Silent night! Holy night!  
All is calm, all is bright…_

Hermione stood and left, certain she was going to be sick on nothing.

* * * * *

NEWTS. NEWTS were all that mattered right now.

Ron was gone ( _gone gone gone_ ). Harry had rushed headlong into Auror training after taking a month’s break ( _There are still rogue Death Eaters out there, Hermione._ ).

Hermione had returned to a partially rebuilt Hogwarts to finish her schoolwork—and nothing else. She’d turned down the offer of Head Girl. She did not attend Quidditch matches to watch Ginny lead Gryffindor. She did not join any of the myriad new activity groups meant to foster unity and to heal. 

She studied, sometimes ate. All was calm. 

All was calm, if not bright.

* * * * *

The choir performed carols every Friday at dinner. In Hermione’s opinion, it was too much, too soon.

“Are you sure you can’t come to the Burrow for New Year’s?” Ginny asked for the hundredth time.

Hermione thought of the Burrow, the empty seats at the table. The empty space between herself and Harry. “I owe it to my parents to spend the time with them.”

Soloists had begun taking turns, and a clear, strong voice rose above the din. It cut through Hermione like a shard of glass.

_O tidings of comfort and joy…_

Her eyes swept the choir.

Malfoy.

* * * * *

In the days leading up to winter hols, Malfoy’s voice followed her everywhere.

Students sent one another “personal carols” delivered at the start or end of class, and there he would be, his crystalline voice louder and more distinct in the smaller space.

Hermione had become a raw nerve, and when Malfoy sang there was nothing to stop her trembling from it. She stared at his mouth forming the words, his belly rising and falling with breath. His eyes always found hers.

“He has no right sounding like an angel,” Ginny said at dinner. 

Hermione flushed, feeling her thoughts exposed. 

* * * * * 

As ever, the library was sanctuary. After an evening’s submersion in its numbing depths, Hermione headed out and caught sight of Malfoy on his way in. Resentment burned in her chest, and she clipped his shoulder as she passed.

“What’s crawled up your arse, Granger?”

Gritting her teeth, Hermione grabbed his arm and hauled him into a nearby corner. “It’s not fair.”

“What?”

“You didn’t lose a-anyone,” she choked.

He said nothing, staring at his feet, blonde fringe shading his eyes.

“You’ve no right singing like…singing about joy and peace.”

“What should I sing about?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing.”

“Okay.”

* * * * *

It had been two days since their run-in, and Malfoy had stopped singing. The choir sounded off. The personal carols were bloody awful. Hermione still heard him, though, in dreams.

_God rest you…_  
 _sleep in Heavenly peace_  
 _on a cold winter's night that was so deep_  
 _let nothing you dismay_  
 _"Fear not then," said the Angel_  
 _"Let nothing you affright”_  
 _and with true love and brotherhood_  
 _each other now embrace_  
 _with the dawn of redeeming grace_

She woke feeling calm, empty. The sort of empty from which a new start might be made. 

“I’m sorry,” she’d tell Malfoy. “Sing.”

* * * * *

“What changed your mind?” he asked when she found him on the Astronomy Tower. Behind him, the stars glittered. Below, the snow glittered back.

 _I heard you in my dreams._ She looked down at her twisting hands. “I’d no right. I’m surprised you stopped.”

“I see how everyone looks at me. Of course _you_ had the nerve to say something.” 

Her eyes traveled up to his face, hair backlit white. “Why sing if you don’t like the attention?”

“My parents want me to join things.”

She nodded.

“You’re not Head Girl.”

“No.”

“Will you be here for New Year’s?”

“Yes.”

* * * * *

He didn’t lie. His parents want him to join things. He’s doing Quidditch again, choir, Dueling Club.

But he loves to sing. He had lessons growing up, which he resented at the time. Then singing became a pleasure, especially once he knew the power it gave him, seeing the rapture on people’s faces when he opened his mouth.

Now it comforts him, the breath moving through his body reminding him he’s alive. The words of the carols a balm and promise.

He sees Granger, stripped bare by loss. He sees her writhing on the Manor floor.

He sings for her.

**Author's Note:**

> Christmas carol lyrics come from "Silent Night," "The First Noel," and "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen." In the dream drabble they are mashed up.
> 
> The tense shift in the last drabble is intentional.


End file.
